


Name

by A_Boy_Named_Mike



Series: MadaTobi Week [20]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 12:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20135329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Boy_Named_Mike/pseuds/A_Boy_Named_Mike
Summary: Prompt:Body swap(fromMadaTobi Week 2019).





	Name

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _Body swap_ (from **[MadaTobi Week 2019](https://madatobiweek.tumblr.com/post/182718063236/madatobi-week-2019)**).

He has always wanted Madara like this, only not like _this._

What this is, isn't a game. It's years of frustration, uncorked, toppled over, an oil spill of incomprehensible proportions.

Somewhere in a dusty corner of a library no one ever visits, Tobirama presses Madara against a bookshelf, uncaring if he's hurting his spine. His teeth find their home in the soft flesh of Madara's neck. Blood upon his tongue. Madara's gasp is too loud in the dark.

Above them, a dim fluorescent lamp. It flickers once, twice, then dies out. Tobirama thinks that perhaps it's better this way. It's better if Madara can barely see him.

His hand undoes Madara's jeans. His fingers dip into the waistband of Madara's boxers, grasp his cock. Madara is hard and wet, this delicious, gasping thing beneath his touch.

Tobirama wants too much. He claims Madara's mouth in his, memorizes the taste of him.

Madara is not afraid to bleed. This, Tobirama knows, in bruises and bite marks, scratches that decorate Madara's pale, pale skin. They make him look more beautiful. More real. Tobirama loves and resents that fact.

He presses their cocks together, all rough palms and aching heart. He wants so damn _much._

Madara's hand on his cheek. Furrow between his eyes. "Hey, slow down."

But Tobirama can't. He _won't._ He _needs_ Madara, needs him desperate, needs him ugly, needs him always. He kisses Madara to shut him up, to keep his eyes closed so he wouldn't _see._

Then it's bucking hips and friction, Madara a writhing, moaning thing within his arms. His hands come to rest upon Tobirama's back, to tangle in too-long, too-dark, too-smooth strands of hair.

Hatred slams itself hard against Tobirama's bones. A prisoner desperate to get out. A caged animal, raging. Tobirama wants to unbar it. Wants to force Madara into the ground and rip him asunder, make him bleed. He wants to hurt him. Knows he could never hurt him.

His hand — this accursed thing that's his and isn't — is a tight fist around their cocks. Precum slicks his fingers. He feels Madara pulse in his hold, hears the pitch of his voice, the way his breath chokes off, and Tobirama knows he is about to come.

He watches it, the moment Madara comes, hard. His face contorted in pleasure. His mouth parted around a name Tobirama does not care to hear.

_"Hashirama."_

Madara moans this, over and over and over, like it's the only name worth saying.

Tobirama comes with Madara's name on his lips because he hasn't got anyone else's.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Devilish Deal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21143651) by [Crystallized_Shadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystallized_Shadow/pseuds/Crystallized_Shadow)


End file.
